


Sea Glass

by storm_of_sharp_things



Series: storm’s 007 Fest 2020 [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Mission Fic, merman Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: 007 Fest 2020A Mermaid AU collaboration with the incredibly talentedstarrboned-art! Art embedded below!Bond is rescued by mer!Q and they work together to overcome a danger to England from unexpected deepwater enemies.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: storm’s 007 Fest 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810918
Comments: 38
Kudos: 68
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations, MI6 Cafe Collections





	1. Not Quite A Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrKsan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrKsan/gifts).



Bond cursed all self-destructive villains as he threw himself over the yacht’s railing toward the water. The shockwave of the explosion caught him just below the surface and the night-dark Mediterranean lit up brighter than day.

He blamed the concussion of the blast for the illusion of a scowling man, startled eyes huge, with dark hair rippling across his face. His bare chest and abdomen trailed down to a fish’s tail. Bond’s last thought before he lost consciousness was bitterly amused. A mermaid, or a merman, and a sexy one at that? What a thing for his brain to choose as his last sight.

He was rather surprised to wake up and find himself drifting on a piece of wreckage as dawn light crept into the sky. Though he was bruised and aching all over, he was alive, and a small boat was chugging toward him in a determined fashion. He wondered briefly why he hadn’t drowned as a couple of cheerful fishermen pulled him into their slimy boat and headed to shore. 

One thing he _was_ sure of — there would be no mention of mermaids in his after-action report. 

* * *

Mallory leaned back in his chair, regarding Bond with a baleful stare. “ _All_ your equipment was missing, 007.”

Bond shifted restlessly in the uncomfortable chair provided for visitors to M’s office and ran a hand through his damp hair. The medical staff had been very insistent that he had barely escaped dying from the blast, with bruised internal organs and several hairline fractures. Bond was doing a lot of cautious swimming as part of his recovery and he was beginning to feel a little waterlogged. “You have my report. I passed out underwater and woke up floating on wreckage. I’m guessing that everything came loose in the blast and sank.”

“Even the tiny subdermal tracker.” Mallory glowered as he folded his hands across his stomach and nodded in the general direction of Bond’s thigh. “At some fifteen millimetres deep, it’s hardly likely to have been knocked loose.”

Bond ran his fingers over the healing incision there, neat and surgically clean. “No, sir.”

Mallory let a dozen heartbeats pass in silence, obviously waiting for Bond to continue, but Bond stared past his shoulder at a spot on the wallpaper until Mallory sighed. “What have you left out, Bond?”

“Don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“You encountered someone,” Mallory said flatly.

Bond felt his jaw clench. He’d gone over what he remembered many times, trying to make sense of it, and just couldn’t escape the conclusion that...

“You saw a mer-creature,” Mallory broke in, and Bond actually jumped. 

“I...”

Mallory sighed again and pulled a bottle of fine whisky and two glasses from a drawer. He poured a generous shot in each and pushed one towards Bond. “You’re involved now, so it’s time to brief you on something we keep very quiet. There _are_ mer-people, at least two different kinds, and our government has had a treaty with them for a few hundred years.”

Bond blinked at him, then downed the shot of whisky in one gulp, antibiotics be damned. Mallory nodded and poured him another shot. 

“The more benign type lives near coastal waters. They are what you’d recognize as a traditional mermaid, I’d say. They’re not what I’d call _friendly_ to us...”

“Hardly surprising, considering how we treat the oceans,” Bond muttered into his glass.

“...but they are not actively aggressive. For the most part. Sailors have been known to survive encounters with them and report back, for instance. They are the ones with whom we negotiated the treaty. The other type...” Mallory took a gulp of his own drink. “The others tend to inhabit the deep oceans and they leave no survivors. Though they’ve been known to venture quite close to shore on occasion and take individuals, mostly they’ll swarm a ship out at sea and leave it empty and adrift. Sometimes they’ll sink them. Submarines have gone missing, as well. Every major naval power knows about the no-go zones, though they may not understand why.”

Bond frowned. “But surely a call for help would...”

Mallory shook his head. “Jammed, as far as we can tell. They have technology, Bond. We just don’t know how advanced.”

“All right.” Bond took another sip of the whisky, trying to appreciate the fine smoky flavour this time. “So what does this have to do with me?”

“Your tracker went silent right after the explosion. Presumed dead.” Mallory’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Not a peep out of it until this morning, when it was traced to a hidden sea cave in Ceibwr Bay.”

Bond paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “...West Wales?” he asked incredulously. “But my equipment was lost in the Mediterranean, near Ithaca.”

“Yes,” Mallory said dryly.

“And...what? You’re sending me to Wales?”

Mallory nodded. “They saved you and now, apparently, they want to talk. So you’ll go find out what they want.”

Bond downed the rest of the whisky and pushed himself to his feet, mind whirling around the unbelievable information.

“And Bond? I don’t think I need to stress the level of diplomacy necessary, do I? You’ll be meeting with representatives of a power that could ban humanity from the oceans should you bollocks this up.”

* * *

“There’s no entrance to that cave but an underwater channel out here,” said the divemaster as he helped Bond strap on the SCUBA while the boat rocked. “We did try to map it out with a little remote submersible, but the tether was cut just before it surfaced inside. Do bring it back if you can.”

“I’ll add it to my to do list.” Bond settled the face mask in place and balanced at the edge of the platform at the back of the boat for a moment, eyeing the rocky cliffs ahead and the dark spot in the water below the boat. Then he stepped off the platform, holding his mask in place, and let himself sink. 

It was a deep dive, and a rough one, through the waters that roiled even this far out from the cliffs. But once in the channel, there was only the faintest tug of the tide, and Bond turned on his lights before swimming into the darkness. 

The sea channel was longer than Bond expected but finally he saw a dim green glow coming from ahead and turned off his lights to allow his eyes to acclimate. He cautiously surfaced in a cavern lit by several large globes of shifting green phosphorescence. 

Lounging on a sloping beach of pebbles and sand was the same man, the same _creature_ , Bond had seen in the Mediterranean before he passed out. On his lap (could he call it a lap if it was fish-shaped and scaly?) was a laptop computer, though not from a manufacturer Bond could identify. The case looked like a thin and delicate clamshell. Next to him sat the remains of the small remote-operated submersible, cracked open like a crab, parts and cables strewn around.

Bond cautiously pulled the regulator away from his mouth and took a wary breath. 

“It’s perfectly safe for you to breathe,” the creature said without looking away from his screen. “There would hardly be a point to bringing you here otherwise.”

Bond swam a little closer and nodded at the ROV. “I guess I won’t be bringing that back with me.”

“No, I’ve a use for much of that.” The creature looked up at Bond directly and his eyes flashed an eerie green for a moment. 

His heavy dark mop of hair, ornamented with lustrous white pearls, hung about his face and gave him a shy appearance if you managed to avoid his sharp gaze. His mouth was pressed into a thin line of dissatisfaction, but looked as though it might normally be generously curved. Bond stared in fascination. The scales on the creature’s tail reminded him of the dark iridescence of abalone shell.

One of the thick eyebrows rose. “Speechless, agent Bond? That’s not your reputation.”

“One doesn’t meet a legendary creature everyday, especially one who most likely saved my life. My apologies for not having an address properly prepared.” Bond smiled his most charming smile at him. 

The face relaxed somewhat though the business-like sternness remained. “Yes, well, perhaps it can be forgiven this time. You may call me Q, agent.”

“Q.”

“Just so.” He tapped a few more times at the computer and then set it aside with a small sound of satisfaction. Bond noted the webbed fingers and claws. “You undoubtedly have questions, agent Bond, but...”

“James, please.”

Q blinked at him, two sets of eyelids sliding across his eyes and back. “...er, James...”

“Q,” James said as he began wading out of the water, “I’m sure there’s some impending crisis that will necessitate the two of us working _very_ closely.”

“...er...yes...” Q watched him warily as James emerged onto the small beach and started to strip the diving gear off. 

“And so we should probably get to know each a little better, don’t you think? To ensure that we work together smoothly, of course.” James unzipped the wetsuit and began to writhe to get free of it, maintaining eye contact with the merman.

Q’s mouth hung open slightly as his brow furrowed. “I was _warned_ about you,” he finally said. “And to think I didn’t believe them.”

James grinned, laying the wetsuit aside and settling next to Q, resting back on his hands to stretch his legs out and cross them at the ankle. He knew the snug squarecut bathing shorts showed him to good advantage. “And?”

Q blinked again and then, unexpectedly, grinned back. James was intrigued to see his teeth were slightly pointed. “And I think this will be an _interesting_ relationship, _James_.”

  
  
  



	2. Fish or Cut Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond embarks on his mission, but nothing ever goes according to plan

Bond attached the edge of a heavy rope net to the railing of his sailboat and draped the rest into the water as the boat bobbed in open water. There was a storm building on the horizon that promised rough seas, but in the meantime, the day was bright and hot and he stripped to a bathing suit to sun himself for awhile.

The boat rocked off-rhythm with the waves and he opened his eyes to find Q climbing the net with an amused expression. The merman hooked his elbows over the railing and hung there with a smirk, occasionally flicking his tail in the water. “I presume this was your idea of a welcome flag?”

Bond grinned at him and stretched, enjoying the way Q’s eyes slid down his nearly naked body before snapping back to his face. “Seems to me that this little stunt would’ve been easier with a small sub. A secret invasion base,” Bond made a face at the seeming silliness of that statement, “that is mobile and underwater means tooling about on the surface doesn’t make much sense.”

Q tilted his head. “You’re not taking this at all seriously, are you?”

“I am!” Bond protested. “It’s just...this is all so... Q. Q, you’re not offended, are you? Just because I’d rather have a submersible?” Bond gave him his most charming smile.

The merman gave him a severe look. “Using one of your ridiculous landcrawler submersibles won’t work at all.”

“Landcrawler? Q, I’m terribly offended by your language. Besides, how do you expect me to escape from this secret underwater base? I’m not the one with gills.”

“We will rescue you, of course.”

“You want your people to pretend to chase my boat to get the attention of these bad merpeople...”

“The _tstrai_ ,” Q said, the word a complex hiss and a growl in his mouth.

Bond, who had tried and failed to say it properly during his first briefing, listened with care and tried to memorise the sounds. “...yes, getting their attention and letting them capture me for questioning, thereby exposing the location of their secret base which is who knows how deep in the sea, so your people can then arrive in force and wipe it out. To be honest, Q, I’d feel much better having a submersible available for an emergency getaway should the rescue go awry.”

Q’s tail slapped the water as he scowled. “You wouldn’t _have_ it available. They would tear it apart taking you out of it.”

Bond studied Q, the dark brows drawn in mild exasperation but the clawed fingers gripping the metal railing almost hard enough to dent it. This was incredibly important to the merman, for reasons that had not been made entirely clear to Bond. He ran a hand down his own bare stomach to scratch his thigh and restrained his triumph when Q’s eyes followed the motion of his hand and lingered.

“You’re not telling me everything, but then that’s nothing new in my line of work.” He shrugged. “You know my government has instructed me to work with you. You could try ordering me to obey.” He waggled an eyebrow.

Q stared at him for a moment until James wondered if he’d miscalculated and Q would storm off in a huff, but then the merman grinned, his sharp teeth on display. Bond suspected it was a mix of amusement and a sort of cat-like threat display.

“Useful information, James. I shall remember that the next time you’re being difficult.” He tilted his head. “You know we need to give you a tracker.”

James nodded. “I wondered if…” He yelped as Q swiftly leaned over and bit his arm above the elbow, drawing blood and leaving a jagged ring of tooth marks. “What the _hell_ did you do that for…”

“Verisimilitude for the chase portion of our scheme,” Q explained sweetly and pushed a tiny pearly object into one of the cuts. Bond yelped again and shoved away from him, pressing his hand over the bite marks.

“A tracker,” Q continued. “Oh, and…” He licked Bond’s blood off his lips with a smirk. “Secondary tracking system. I’ll be able to find you in the water now that I’ve your...taste.” He turned and eyed the oncoming storm. “You'll want to start sailing now,” he advised as he slid away from the boat.

Bond’s last glimpse of him was the wickedly amused slant to his eyebrows just before the merman dove below the surface. “Well, fuck me…” he muttered and set about raising the sail.

* * *

Bond was sailing as fast as he could push the craft, riding the catastrophic edge of wind and tossing waves. He had to assume Q’s people were chasing him though he saw no sign of them.

Even knowing that he was bait, he wasn’t expecting the swarm of green figures that erupted from beneath the boat, poured over the sides, and even launched themselves at him from the crests of waves.

He went down under the weight of dozens of wet bodies and too many clawed hands and then something dark and heavy was shoved over his head and cut off all his senses. He was wrapped in what felt like wet ropes and then the cold ocean closed around him and he struggled in alarm until he realised he could breathe.

There was motion, and the clawed hands holding him shifted every now and again, and the pressure of the water around him increased as they swam downward. Just as he began to worry about various depth sicknesses, the hands and then the water fell away and left him dripping, still bound, on some smooth surface.

Bond squirmed, testing the ropy stuff, and managed to wriggle and twist his way out of it after some effort. He pulled off the strange head cover, finding it to be a sort of shell. The small bubble he sat in had a dozen or so similar shells scattered about it, and Bond suspected they were providing his breathing gases.

Outside the bubble, several sea monsters stared at him and Bond stared back, taking in as many details as he could. If he returned to the surface, he’d need to pass them along to MI6.

They were green, a range from pale seafoam to an abyssal green, and glossy-skinned where they weren’t covered with tiny sharp-looking scales. Their tails tapered to the kind of bony lunate shape he’d seen on tuna or swordfish, indicating speed. Their mouths were full of jagged teeth and Bond had to assume the hissing and clicking noises passing through the bubble was speech of some kind.

They were beautiful in a terrifying way, beautiful in an otherworldly way they shared with Q and his people. Despite their predatory features they were utterly fascinating and Bond found it hard to look away from them.

The submerged chamber they were in was roughly spherical and dully metallic, big enough for the bubble holding him to be at the center and leave plenty of room for a dozen of the mermen.

One of them pulled a small bundle from a cubby and brought it to the bubble, pressing it through slowly until it dropped to the inside surface. James picked it up and found it to be a small webbed construction with four tiny beads at the corners.

The merman tapped at the bubble to get his attention and indicated its own throat, then pointed to the webbing and Bond. He carefully studied the placement on the merman, then settled a bead directly behind each ear and one underneath each side of his jaw. The webbing molded to his throat and moved every time he swallowed.

_Can you hear us?_

Bond jumped as the beads behind his ears vibrated and somehow transmitted the words straight to his eardrums. “Yes...?”

_Good. And we hear you._

“Er...good?”

_You were meant to be dangled before us as bait._

Bond blinked.

The deep green merman bared his needle-pointed teeth in what Bond presumed was meant to be a smile. _We were aware of this plan and have already countered it. The attacking force has been turned away and we have captured one of our enemies that we have long been seeking._

“I don’t...” Bond broke off as a battered-looking Q was hauled in, wrapped in seaweedy ropes. The tousled head lifted long enough to give Bond a look of despair and then dropped again, and he felt a chill run through him. He wondered if there would be any resurrection possible from this watery trap.


	3. Siren Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission completed! Now what?

Bond pressed his palms to the inside of the bubble and watched the flurry of movement around Q, a storm of agitated hissing amongst the other mermen making the water shiver as he was obviously questioned.

Q’s iridescent scales looked grey and dull as he hung limply in their grip, and he made no answer when he was addressed. Bond scowled as he realized Q was bleeding heavily from several places and wondered if loss of blood made merpeople woozy as it did humans. He watched as Q was scanned with several pieces of equipment and a fierce discussion was held.

The merman who’d spoken before looked over at the bubble, a sneer curling his mouth. _We did not expect the bait to be taken so quickly, but then Q has long been notorious for rash actions._

They brought Q over to the bubble and he seemed to wake up somewhat, thrashing wildly and filling the water around the bubble with the faint tint of his blood before he was pressed up against the material and shoved through to flop helplessly next to Bond. The merman shuddered, gasping, and Bond reached for him in alarm, wondering what he could possibly do to help.

Q flailed when Bond touched him, his clawed hand slicing over where he’d bitten Bond earlier, and there was a flash of pain before Q abruptly curled in on himself, his head mostly in Bond’s lap. The merpeople clustered around made scraping noises that Bond assumed were laughter and left the room.

The agent kept his expression neutral as he touched the fresh cut on his arm, seeing a sly smile turn up the corner of Q’s mouth very briefly.

“Take off the translator,” Q murmured very softly.

Bond peeled off the webbing and held it, frowning, as he watched Q press the tiny bloody pearl he’d extracted from Bond’s bite to the bubble’s surface and work it through. It dissolved almost instantly when it emerged into the water on the other side.

Q relaxed and sighed, opening his eyes fully to stare up at Bond.

“Care to explain what’s going on?” Bond asked. “I assume that things have gone well according to whatever plan you had that I am unknowingly part of.”

“A very necessary part,” Q said. “Without you to hide the pearl holding the other half of the toxin, this plan would never have worked.”

“You’ve _poisoned_ the ocean?”

“Only a very localized portion of it, with a fast-acting and short-lived toxin activated by the presence of my blood in the water outside this bubble. It will destroy the _tstrai_ in this immediate vicinity and become harmless within about an hour. My people will be here after that and we will return you to the surface.”

Bond frowned. “Are you planning to kill all of the _tiss...tz...tstrai?”_

“Of course not. This is a very small section of their population — warhawks, I believe you humans call them. There are others we will need to remove more surgically in order to cut down on their attacks, but most of them were here on this base, as we expected.”

Q rolled onto his back, his body and tail following the curve of the bubble and wrapping around behind Bond as the merman smirked up at him. “Are you feeling used, 007?”

“I am, rather.” Bond wondered a little at his disappointment. He was an agent of MI6, a weapon of his own government. He was a tool, whose entire purpose was to be used. Why should this feel any different?

Q stretched, wincing a little as the movement pulled at a couple of wounds. “You have a reputation, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. For ending a mission with a sexual conquest, generally with those whose assistance you have acquired along the way, be they innocent bystanders or fellow agents.” Q smirked again. “They’ve become colloquially known as Bond Girls, I believe, even the handful of lads you’ve pulled, poor things.”

“Er...” Bond said. “Have they?”

“The funny thing is,” Q chuckled, his tail moving to urge Bond closer, “I have a very similar reputation, and you have been of _tremendous_ help, James.”

Q tugged him close into a kiss, his clawed fingers stroking through James’ hair. “And you’ve been such a tease this whole time, too,” Q murmured against his mouth, lips curved into a small smile. “Flaunting yourself at me...”

James floundered for a moment, his entire world turned topsy-turvy, but Q’s mouth was so soft, his tongue inhumanly agile as it stroked along his lips, and the skin above the scales was silky and warm under James’ hands. “Wait, wait. Am I just another in a long line of Q Girls?”

Q grinned. “Mostly Q Boys, if I’m honest. And it seems a delightful way to spend a couple of hours until rescue arrives.”

“...you know, it really does.” James let Q pull him down and kiss him breathless.

* * *

When Q’s people finally did arrive, James decided to be amused rather than offended by the knowing smirks they kept casting in his direction while they brought the entire bubble to the surface. Bond wondered at the lack of decompression stops during the ascent, but being well-shagged had its advantages, after all, and he decided not to worry about their technology while he lay comfortably curled with Q.

His sailboat was waiting at the surface, scuffed and scraped but still afloat, and Q saw him aboard, waiting while James determined that it was seaworthy.

Once everything was rigged right, James came to lean on the railing, looking down at Q where he floated next to the boat. “I suppose this is goodbye?”

Q smiled. “We... _I_...could not have completed this mission without you.”

James smiled back, a little wistfully. “Is this the part where I ask if I’ll ever see you again?”

“You never can tell, can you?” Q blew him a kiss and flipped backward into the water, disappearing with a flick of his tail.

He sighed, drowning a shift towards melancholy with a self-mocking thought. He’d never figured his love ‘em and leave ‘em tendencies would come back to bite, but this did seem rather final. How did one go about contacting a merman, after all? A note in a bottle?

He set sail for shore, already dreading the questioning he’d be subjected to once he got back to London.

* * *

After an entirely annoying series of debriefings and medical examinations, James found himself moping about a bit until M sent him on a lengthy mission to Las Vegas, liaising with Felix while they tracked down the supplier of a multinational arms smuggling ring.

That kept him busy for almost three months, and he was fine until the long plane trip home. Then he found himself staring at the ocean below and wondering where Q was and what he was doing.

You’re pining after a _merman,_ he reminded himself. Though there must be stupider things, he was having trouble thinking of any.

He was feeling distinctly mopey again as he dropped his kit off at the quartermaster’s branch, and he was not best pleased to be flagged down by Tanner as he was trying to leave.

“Bond! Hang on, since you’re here, do you have a moment?”

“Well...”

“You knew that Major Boothroyd retired while you were away, didn’t you?”

James nodded. He’d sent the man a shipment of very fine liquors from Vegas, along with a lovely note.

“I’d like to introduce you to his replacement. He just arrived yesterday. Come along.”

James sighed as he followed Tanner. It wouldn’t hurt to know which of the quartermaster’s minions had been promoted. He hoped it was someone he’d worked with before. Someone competent.

In the quartermaster’s office, there was a head of incredibly thick and curly dark brown hair bent over the desk, and Bond could make out the edges of dark-rimmed glasses. Long slender fingers were deftly manipulating tiny tools and James tilted his head. There _was_ something familiar about him...

“Bond, I’d like you to meet the new quartermaster,” Tanner was saying, and then the man looked up and grinned wickedly.

“007, what a pleasure to meet you,” Q said. He stood and held out a hand bereft of claws, his teeth straight and humanly non-pointed. Most importantly, he had _legs._ Not an iridescently scaled and finned tail.

James felt himself on the edge of dithering. “Er...”

“Right,” Tanner said. “Well I’m off. Q, let me know if you need anything, will you?”

“Thank you, yes. Would there be any objection to my taking lunch now, do you think?”

“Your schedule is yours to set. And in fact, Bond there knows all the good spots around. Bond, why don’t you show Q around the area? Find him a decent lunch, hey?”

Q practically purred as he came around the desk. “What a marvelous idea. Yes, Bond, why don’t you show me around a bit?”

He nodded, still speechless, and headed for the door.

Outside, Q nudged him in one direction. “I’ve a flat down the street. Shall we go and talk?”

James nodded and walked (walked!) beside the merman, casting glances at the the slim-fitting suit, the thick hair ruffling in the breeze, the serene face turned up to the sun with light glinting occasionally from his glasses.

“I know you must have questions.”

“They can wait,” James managed to say.

“Mmm, good. You know, the Thames makes a lovely path to the sea, now that it’s been cleaned up a bit.”

“Does it?”

Q laughed softly and led James to a bright and airy modern flat. Once inside, James glanced around and let Q lock the door before he pulled him close and began to strip him.

“I missed you too,” Q murmured, leaning into a kiss.

“How are you even here?” James tossed aside the jacket, shirt, and tie, and began unfastening the trousers, pausing at the pearlescent sheen to the skin of Q’s hips. When he stroked his fingers over it, Q took a sudden deep breath. “Sensitive?”

“Very much so,” Q growled. “Gives you rather an unfair advantage, really.”

“Does it?” James teased along the open flys until Q growled again and began working James’ clothing off. “Are you going to tell me this is magic or technology?”

“Does it matter?” Q slid his hand into the front of James’ trousers, nearly turning off James’ brain in the process.

“Not in the slightest. But why are you here?”

Q smiled as he tumbled James into his bed. “You were irresistible. Best Q Boy ever. 10 out of 10 would shag again.”

James laughed. “Our stories say _your_ lot are the sirens.”

“And yet I gave up the ocean for you.”

He stilled, staring at Q. “Permanently?”

Q stroked a finger across James’ mouth, a slight curve to the corners of his mouth. “For as long as we both desire it. And who can say at this moment how long that will be?”

James let their foreheads touch gently, breaths mingling. Then he grinned his wickedest grin. “So, little fish, have you ever _had_ legs to spread before?”

**Author's Note:**

> My father’s family is from Wales so I took particular delight in studying the craggy coastlines from afar in one of my marine archaeology courses!


End file.
